A More Beneficial Approach
by vbkm
Summary: The first conversation Ian & Sara have in "Nailed." Takes place before what we see.


Ian hated to admit it, but he didn't know the names of all the staff members, only a select few. The fact that there were only two of African-American decent, a mother and daughter, made it easier to remember their names; Chandra and Amara, respectively. He had, as of late, taken a liking to the cornrows that Amara wore in her hair. Knowing Chandra did them, he requested that she do the same for him. 

Seated in his deceased father's great chair in front of the fireplace, Ian became lost in thought as he stared into the flames. Too many thoughts went through his mind. The fact that Sara said she understood. The fact that she acted no differently towards him, days later, than she had before. The fact that she refused to listen to his advice, his warnings, his instruction, about others trying to take the Witchblade from her, nearly costing her the loss of the Witchblade. And her life.

"Penny for your thoughts, sir?" Chandra asked. Although he was the new lord of the manor, she had been in the former master's employ for enough years to know that Mr. Nottingham was nothing like his father. He was more compassionate and caring of the staff. He had an aura about him that yearned to be acknowledged. She did not have to worry about being rudely informed that she was out of place by speaking. The fact that he had requested she style his hair for him also led her to believe that he felt more at the level of the staff, not at that of his late father. That he did not feel he was any better than any of the staff in the manor. That he felt he could relate better to them than to anyone else. Almost anyone else.

Her question was answered by silence. She pressed on. Mr. Nottingham was very troubled. She could sense it. He needed someone to talk to besides the empty manor, and the spirits that plagued his mind.

"It is the woman. Isn't it, sir?"

Despite himself, Ian nodded as well as he could while she worked on his hair. 

"Does she not understand at all, sir? Does she not see the power she truly has over you? The rest of the staff and I see you pace about here night and day, staring at the paintings that bare her resemblance. And," she hesitated, "we have heard you, on occasion, talk as if she were in the room with you."

As she finished the last braid, she came into Ian's view, adding, "I know it is not my place to tell you what you should do with your life, sir. But I, along with some of the others, cannot bear seeing you sulk around here brooding over this woman. You are not like your father. You are a good man. You have a good heart." Ian did not respond. He merely continued to stare at the flames. She added, "I will only say this last thing, sir; she will not truly know how you feel unless you actually tell her. Do not do as your father and tell her in riddles or try to manipulate her into falling for you. Speak from your heart, sir. Then she will know that you are sincere."

She bowed slightly and left. Ian contemplated all Chandra had said. "Thank you," he quietly called to her. Yes, perhaps if he took yet a different approach with Sara, she would be more eager, willing, ready to listen to him. One way to find out was to start in helping her more with the Witchblade. Ever since his brief, yet…intimate contact with his dearly departed father, he seemed to have an even closer connection to Sara and the Witchblade and all it showed her, revealed to her. He could sense that she was starting to receive visions from the Witchblade that she did not quite understand. These visions were more intense, almost overpowered her, overwhelmed her. She would need answers, and he would gladly give them to her. He realized he would, indeed, give her anything she wanted, including his heart.

He rose from the chair and went to dial her cell number. He closed his eyes for a moment as he enjoyed the sound of Sara's voice on the other end as she answered.

"I believe I can help you, Sara. If you allow it."

"On what, exactly, Nottingham?"

She still sounded a bit annoyed with him. Hopefully, that would all change soon. 

"You know I prefer to converse with you in person." 

He could picture her looking around her surroundings to make sure he wasn't going to suddenly appear behind her, as he did a few days ago at Anna Granger's office. He assured her, "Relax, Sara. I am not in the immediate vicinity. But I will be soon. Meet me at Hemecker Park in an hour. I will be playing basketball there." Basketball. The one thing he had taken an enjoyment in ever since his father's demise. He hung up the phone and quickly went to change into more appropriate clothing, even more eager than normal to play his new favorite pastime. For this time, he would have an audience that he wanted to impress.

****************************************

Ian reveled in the freedom he had while playing the simple game of basketball. When playing alone, there were two simple rules; bounce the ball on the ground and make a basket in the hoop.

Before long, he saw Sara walk into the park. She stood and waited patiently for him to finish his game. Now was his chance.

Ian made a flourish of making his last basket. Hopefully, he would be able to surprise her with the fact that he had a more playful side to him, as of late. Sara, standing right there, watching his every move. He held onto the hoop for a moment before letting go.

Ian made a rather dramatic show of landing on the pavement. He retrieved the ball with his left hand and his FILA jacket in his right. Ian noticed Sara look to him, as if impressed after all, before she turned to walk out of the park. After he put on his jacket, Ian made a display of spinning himself around Sara and tossed the ball to her in an almost playful manner.

He got right to the point. "You want to talk about Dalek and how the Witchblade can help you?" He knew she only wanted to know, for the moment, why he requested she meet him.

Sara tossed the ball back to him as she replied, sarcastically, "Well, I didn't come for a game of roundball."

"Well, he thinks he's the perfect predator."

Sara glanced to him at his remark. "You jealous?"

Oh, if only Sara knew. "He offers benign charm, quick wit. All which belie homicidal intent. The author your suspect likes to quote so happens to be one of my favorites. Baron Leopole Von Sacher-Masoch. From whence we divine masochism."

"Maybe you two should date."

How amusing. "What's the Witchblade been showing you, Sara?"

Sara gazed up to him as she explained, "I see Dalek seducing me, or seducing his next victim."

Ian explained her visions to her. "You see the precision of his mania. The exactness of his crimes. The conscience absent of remorse."

Sara retorted, "Well, he's a stone killer."

Ian asked, knowing she would not know the answer, "Remove emotion from the equation, Sara, and what are you left with?"

Sara stopped to stare at him, an expression on her face that asked him to tell her.

He gave her the answer. "Nature."

Sara gazed up to him, again. As if she started to understand him, as she said she had a few days before, she remarked, "You miss Irons, don't you?"

"I'm learning not to. I'm learning I don't have control of anything. And, as such, may enjoy the chaotic whimsy of fate and," he paused briefly, "I think of you."

Ian noticed the slight raise of Sara's eyebrows. She _was_ listening to what he had to say. She was looking _right at him_ as he spoke. Perhaps Chandra's advice was helpful after all.

He continued, "And it's an unless torrent of lust," She raised her eyebrows again. Higher this time. Yes, this new approach _would_ be beneficial, after all. He continued, "and hate. You orphaned me, Sara. You orphaned me."

With that, he left Sara where she stood, bouncing the ball along the way.

Once he had adequate enough distance from her, Ian turned to look back at Sara. She appeared to be in a trance, most likely because the Witchblade was showing her another vision. He smiled. Yes, this new approach would be _most_ beneficial. Sara would come back to him, willingly, for his help, as he had hoped all along. He turned back around and made his way to his car.

END


End file.
